


Wait For It

by LotusFlair



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Spoilers, Spoilers through MAG 161
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusFlair/pseuds/LotusFlair
Summary: Martin's good at waiting. He waited through Jane Prentiss' assault on his flat. He waited for Jon to wake up. He can wait for Jon to decide how to save the world.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Wait For It

**Author's Note:**

> "It's alright. I'm good at waiting." - Martin Blackwood, MAG 161 "Dwelling"
> 
> "I'm willing to wait for it." - Aaron Burr, Hamilton, The Musical

_Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes..._

It was day nine and he was already sickened by the smell of canned peaches. Cutting through the tin with his can opener, he braced for the sickly sweet aroma that was ready to assault him. Each can had eight peach halves and he'd determined early on that rationing two in the morning and two in the evening was the best strategy. He didn't know how long Jane Prentiss planned to besiege his flat, but he wasn't naive enough to think that she'd get bored and move on because he wasn't cooperating.

He could hear the worms wriggling around outside as Jane knocked on the door, reminding him of her presence out of the sheer joy of listening to him yelp in terror. He'd thought about blasting his stereo as loudly as possible. Maybe she'd hate his choice in music enough to slither away or, at the very least, someone would call the police about the noise. Before he could enact the plan, however, his brain fretted over the possibility of the worms getting into the flat while the music played. He wouldn't be able to hear them and they'd have the upper hand on him. If he wanted to live, if he wanted to survive, then he needed the haunting silence of the flat so he could hear the worms if they managed to get past the towels he'd fashioned as barriers between his doors, windows, and any other point of access he deemed penetrable.

That also meant barely sleeping and absolutely no showering. The smell of peaches was mixing with his body odor and he found himself fighting the urge to throw up every time he got downwind of himself.

It was on the fourth day he realized no one was coming to save him. He'd lost his phone, like an idiot, but that didn't explain why no one at the archives hadn't at least attempted to check up on him. Was he that non-essential? Was he so easily dismissed? He wasn't expecting a contingent of soldiers to storm the flat, but he had to at least warrant some kind of investigation given the terrible things they read about in archives' statements. But, no, no one was coming. Not Tim, not Sasha, and certainly not Jon.

He was alone and all he could do - the only thing he could do - was wait. Wait to die. Wait to survive. Just wait.

So he waited.

_Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes..._

He'd gotten the call from the hospital hours after the explosion. One of the nurses recognized Jon from a previous visit. He and Melanie rushed over and Martin nearly passed out when he saw the state of his...his friend. Jon was covered in bandages, some recently applied and others tinged an awful shade of light red. The nurse who'd called told them he'd been pulled from the rubble and almost sent to the morgue. He wasn't breathing, there was no heart beat, but one of the EMTs saw Jon's eyes moving back and forth as if he were asleep and dreaming. They'd brought him to A&E instead and his condition baffled the doctors and nurses.

He was hooked up to every piece of machinery available as a precaution, but only the one monitoring his brain waves showed any activity. For all intents and purposes, Jon's body was dead but his mind was alive.

Two months later and the routine was the same. Martin bought a coffee and breakfast sandwich in the hospital canteen and brought it up to Jon's private room, which the Magnus Institute _generously_ offered to cover. He'd have his breakfast while filling Jon in on the previous day's events at the archives. He'd comment on how Jon's hair was getting too long and he'd have to cut it once he was up and moving around again. He'd read a bit from the newspaper, making sure Jon was up-to-date on recent events. Jon, as always, remained silent and still save for his brainwaves. After breakfast, Martin would squeeze Jon's hand before leaving for work.

The day was spent trying to keep the archives going. Basira had staggered her way back to the institute not long after they'd been called into the hospital about Jon, but she was colder than before - guarded in a way that he'd never seen. The loss of Daisy hit her hard and it showed in her defensiveness and the practically militaristic need for control when handling agents of the other Entities. Melanie wasn't much better. She was a ball of barely pent up rage and there was nothing either Martin or Basira could do to calm her. She was ready - aching - for a fight and Martin struggled for answers that would not come. He wanted to help them, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they didn't care if he did or not. They were a broken unit of anger, pain, and sorrow with no end in sight for any of them unless...

At the end of the day, he'd grab tea and something for dinner, drag himself back to Jon's room and try not to cry over what his life had become. There were no answers in the archives and there were no answers from Jon. He continued to sleep while Martin struggled to keep his head above water. The doctors could only shrug their shoulders at his condition. Each specialist brought in came to the same conclusion: nothing. Their answer was always the same, no matter what he asked.

"All we can do is wait," they said.

So he waited.

_Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes..._

Jon said he needed more time. He was grieving, Martin could understand that. He'd done it himself when he thought Jon was truly gone after the Unknowing. This grief, though, was painful to watch. Jon was torturing himself and there was no telling how long it would take for him to come around to the other side. A few days? A few months? A few years? Time no longer seemed to mean anything in this broken world, so who was to say how long was appropriate to suffer? How long was appropriate to watch someone you loved suffer?

Despite it all, he found himself smiling at referring to Jon as someone he loved, knowing it was returned in kind. They had the worst timing, of course they did, but he was glad they'd finally found each other. Even if the world was over, they were relatively safe and they were together. And being together, being a couple, meant there would be times when one partner needed the strength and resolve of the other to shoulder their burden. They were still figuring things out, but Martin was willing to be the rock this time around. Jon had been his anchor coming out of the Lonely and now it was Martin's turn to buoy him even when he thought he was sinking below the waves.

Jon needed more time to come to terms with a lot of things and Martin was determined to give him that space. Jon was protecting him from the Eye so Martin would protect him from everything else - himself, if it was required. That's what partners do for each other. It was just a matter of waiting for Jon to figure out how he wanted to fix what he'd been forced to break.

So he waited.

_I'm willing to wait for it._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @darling_sammy and check out my website POP Archives, www.pop-archives.com


End file.
